


DON'T BE DEAD

by seathought



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-24 15:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20361106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seathought/pseuds/seathought
Summary: Post Reichenbach fallAfter his best friend and flat mate's suicide, John Watson is a total mess. Then Sherlock Holmes comes back from his fake death. How will the doctor react to that?THIS STORY AND CHARACTER ARE ALL ENTIRELY BASED ON THE BBC SERIES, "SHERLOCK" . ALL OF IT BASED ON THE WORK OF SIR ARTHUT CONAN DOYLE.





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

It had been 2 dreadful years since John witnessed Sherlock's suicide. He was still hurting but despite that, he was feeling a little bit better.

*Months after the Reichenbach Fall*

A few months after the fall, John decided to move from 221B; it was too painful to live there where everything reminded him of Sherlock.

John was a total mess; he didn't sleep good, he didn't eat properly either, he didn't talk unless it was really necessary, he got drunk almost every night, he didn't go out... also, he hadn't even tried to date anyone, since he was too afraid of getting too attached to someone and end up hurt... just as it happened with Sherlock. He just didn't feel ready to get into a relationship, he was still very sorrowful about Sherlock's death, which, of course, was totally normal. But there was something else; even after begging at Sherlock's grave for a miracle, that Sherlock stopped being dead, there was something that didn't feel right. John felt as if he forgot to tell him something but didn't know what could it possibly be, since, according to him, everything that he needed to say, had been said. Nevertheless, he still felt like something was missing. After spending some days trying to figure out what could that be, it hit him.

John was at the morgue talking to Molly, who became a close friend of the doctor when Sherlock died, when out of the blue the woman asked

"Did you tell him, John?" the doctor frowned; he had no idea what she was talking about and he asked

"If I told what to whom?" he replied chuckling. Molly looked at him as if he should already know what was she talking about and softly said

"If you told Sherlock that... Well, that you love him"

The doctor didn't reply. He just looked at Molly about to deny what she had just said but then it hit him; she was right. He was not only sorrowful about Sherlock's death; he was heartbroken and as much as he had denied it for years, it was true: he was in love with Sherlock Holmes, he had always been, and he unconsciously knew it, but he refused to admit that it was true, why? He didn't know. John was in love with Sherlock but now it was too late because the consulting detective was dead and there was nothing John could do about it... Why couldn't he have realised his love for the detective sooner? Why didn't he say anything when he had the chance? Why? Why did he have to be so afraid to admit his true feelings?

After a few seconds of silence, the doctor finally said

"No, I didn't tell him..." he chuckled cheerlessly and looked at Molly, who was staring at him pitifully. There. He finally said it. He felt a huge relieve but at the same time a big amount of pain; he was in love with Sherlock but he couldn't tell him now. Then, curious, John asked

"How did you know, Molly?" the woman just smiled a little bit and said

"It's pretty obvious. The way you looked at him, the way you talked about him... Things like that."

It had been several months now since the detective's death and John still went to his grave every single day. He just talked to him about anything and everything or sometimes he just sat there and cried. This went on for months, until one day the doctor went to visit Sherlock's grave, as usual. He walked through the mossy hills of the cementery until he arrived to that solitary black grave that laid beside a very tall tree, which, now barren, had no use in shadowing the grave.

John stood there for a while before he started talking, looking at the name written on the black, cold stone. 'Sherlock Holmes' it said. John still couldn't believe that his best friend was dead and as annoying as Sherlock could be, John missed him and his madness so much. He missed their little adventures... everything.

John started telling him that he had visited Molly that day and that they have become really close since his suicide and, after a while, he couldn't help it but to start crying. It was all too much, he couldn't do that anymore, so he told Sherlock that he wouldn't visit him anymore, because it was too painful; it was too painful to talk to him and not have an answer, it was too painful not to hear his voice nor his laugh, not to see him... It was just too much pain to handle and John felt like he couldn't take it anymore because every time he went there to talk to the detective, he ended up crying uncontrollably; he wasn't even talking to Sherlock, just to his grave, he needed to move on and get over his best friend's death, as difficult as it could be, he had to learn to live with the pain.

He put his hand on the cold black stone and choking back his tears he said

"Goodbye Sherlock".


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

John started to walk away from the cementery for what he thought it would be the last time, tears flushing down his cheeks.

On his way home, the doctor found himself buying coffee on the same exact stand where 7 years ago he bumped into Mike Stamford, the man who introduced him to Sherlock. As soon as he realized it, he started feeling dizzy and sick; all the memories were coming back to him, he felt overwhelmed, so he started walking to his new home, tears rolling down his cheeks, while thinking 'Why? Why did he have to do it?'. It was still very hard for him to process that Sherlock Holmes, his best friend, was dead; everything was so different and dull now that he wasn't there... A few days after Sherlock's death, John had wished at the taller man's grave for a miracle: for him to stop being dead. He knew it was impossible, but still, he wished with all his strength that it could be true.

When he was about to arrive home, John, once again, swore that he saw Sherlock standing in the corner of his street; it was late so he could just see the silhouette but it was undeniably hissilhouette. 'No. It can't be him. He is dead. This is just my imagination', he convinced himself, eyes shut and hands on his head. When he looked up again, the silhouette was gone.

John hallucinated about Sherlock being alive very frequently, and when he told someone about it, even Lestrade or Molly, they just looked at him pitifully and tried their best to comfort the doctor. John's therapist had been telling him to take some pills to stop having those hallucinations, but the doctor didn't do it.

"John, you have to take them. They will help you..." she would say, with a little smile.

"N-No... I can't I-" he would reply, choking back his tears.

"Why?" she would ask, then. The woman knew that there was something that John needed to get out of his chest, something he needed to say, to scream, to let out, but for some reason, he continued to keep to himself; she never pressured him to say it, though.

"Because..." he took a deep breath "It's only through these hallucinations that I get to see him again..." John would answer. The therapist would just look at him sadly and proceed to take some notes. And that is how usually their sessions would go.

After standing there for a while, thinking about the silhouette he had just seen, he started walking to his house. Once he got in, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of the strongest alcohol he could find and started drinking from it. That had also become kind of a routine after Sherlock's suicide. He would try to drown his pain in the alcohol, but it didn't usually work. While drunk, he would usually call Lestrade and, no matter what time it was, the Detective Inspector would always pick up the phone and try to calm John down.

Sherlock saw most of these things. The detective spent the first months after his "death" there, near the doctor, looking after him; but he had to be really careful not to be seen, or his friends' life would be endangered. Only Molly and Mycroft knew that he was alive; she was the one who helped him to fake his suicide, after all.

Sherlock was very hurt as well, to see John grieving like that... he couldn't bear it, especially knowing that he was responsible for all that pain. And it hurt him so much because he was deeply in love with him. Now, though, it was too late because Sherlock had to leave to destroy Moriarty's network, and god knew how long that would take, so John would move on soon and he would find someone, a nice woman to love and who loved him back.

The detective always tried his best to deny his feelings for his best friend and flat mate John Watson because he had always thought that love was a generous disadvantage, a human error... Now though, it was different, he wasn't able to divorce himself from his feelings anymore, because, as much as he pretended to be emotionless, it was true: he had fallen in love with John Watson.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Two years later now, and there was John, standing in front of Sherlock's grave. It's true that two years ago he said that he wouldn't come back there because it was too painful, but a couple of days after that, he couldn't help it but going again, even if it was just to sit there in silence, immerse in his thoughts.

Now it had been two years since Sherlock's suicide and, even though John was still hurting because of it, he was feeling a little bit better; he had managed to move on a little; he didn't get drunk that often, he didn't have so many breakdowns, he managed to sleep a little better... Also, he started eating properly again and he managed to get his job back at the hospital where he had worked before Sherlock's death. Nevertheless, as much progress as he had made, he was still in pain, he just learnt to live with it. Besides that, John was still deeply in love with Sherlock... Since he admitted his real feelings for the detective, his love for him had done nothing but growing stronger every day...

It was winter, so the black grave was covered in white snow ohn was telling Sherlock about his day and how tedious it had been... After that, he mentioned that he felt ready to visit the apartment they used to share; 221B, Baker Street; and he was going to do that the following day. 

"I haven't dared to go there since I moved, you know..." said the doctor, chuckling sadly. He kept on talking

"But I have been feeling a bit nostalgic lately, so I think a visit will be good, to revive memories and all... Also, I should see Mrs. Hudson, since I didn't keep contact with her after... Well, after you died" he was trying to hold back his tears before continuing

"And for that, I owe her an apology..." he cleared his throat and said

"Uhm, well, yeah, that's it... See you soon... mate" and with that being said, he left. 'Mate? What on Earth was I thinking?' said John to himself laughing a little bit.

Sherlock had come back from dismantling Moriarty's network a month ago but he couldn't reveal that he was alive yet, not until Mycroft had made sure that there were no more Moriarty's workers free.

Now, the detective was hidden near his grave, in a place where he couldn't be seen but that allowed him to hear John when he talked to him. He was sitting there, listening to the doctor talk about his day, when suddenly he said that he was ready to visit 221B for the first time in almost two years... 'This is my chance' he thought to himself 'My chance to tell him that I am alive" and as soon as John left, Sherlock ran to Mycroft's office. It wasn't very decorated nor big; it was quite simple. It had one chair below a huge window with gorgeous views to the splendid garden outside. There were also a couple of wooden book shelves, one tiny shelf on the wall in front of the window and another one, much bigger, full of books, at the end of the small room and in front of it, there was Mycroft's desk, very organised; there were two small lamps on it, two phones and a rather big pile of papers.

It didn't take long for the detective's brother to enter in his office

"Hello, brother dear." Said Mycroft

"Hello, Mycroft. How's your diet going?" said Sherlock smiling. His brother just sighed and sat

on his chair, behind his desk.

"What are you doing here, Sherlock?" he asked, clearly pissed at the fact that his little brother teased him with the diet.

"I need to come back, Mycroft." Mycroft took a deep breath and put his hands on his face before looking at his younger brother straight in the eye again and said

"Sherlock, you know that we cannot do that yet. It could be dangerous; we have to make sure first that there are no more Moriarty's workers free..."

"Oh come on! I dismantled his network, Mycroft, there is no more danger! Besides" the detective stood up and started pacing around the tiny office "I need to know London again; breathe it in, every quiver of its beating heart, without hiding from anyone anymore."

"Sherlock, I just told you, we can't-" his sentence was interrupted by the detective

"Mycroft, please!" he steadied himself, took a deep breath and said again "Please. I need to go back."

The older brother sighed. He stared at his little brother; he cared too much about him to put his life in risk, but if Sherlock said that Moriarty's network was totally destroyed, he had to trust him because he also cared too much for his little brother to see him suffering that much. So, after a few minutes of deep thought, Mycroft finally said

"Okay. You can go back to Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes"

The detective's lips slightly curved upwards and his eyes glittered with so many emotions; after all he had to go through while dismantling Moriarty's network, Sherlock Holmes was going back home.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

As soon as he finished talking with Mycroft, Sherlock went to St. Barts Hospital.   
Molly was about to finish her shift; she went to her locker to grab her things and go home, but as soon as she was going to close the locker again and leave, she saw, on the mirror hanging on the locker’s door, a man behind her. She gasped and started shaking in fear, but then, the man came a few steps closer and became visible. It was Sherlock. The woman, who understood perfectly what was going on, smiled and said  
“Welcome back Sherlock” the taller man, came even closer to Molly, smiled at her tenderly and gave her a little kiss on the cheek  
“Thank you, for everything you did for me, Molly”  
“It was my pleasure” she said, smiling nervously   
“No, I really mean it, thank you”  
“It’s okay” replied Molly, now looking to the floor, clearly nervous.  
“Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake. Because the one person he thought didn’t matter at all to me was the one person who mattered most. You made it all possible, and for that, I thank you. Good night, Molly” said the detective on his way to the door, leaving a very confused and blushed Molly behind. 

After that, he went to Lestrade. Sherlock knew he would also be finishing his shift, so he waited for him at the parking lot. It was dark in there so Greg didn’t notice his presence, until when he was about to light his cigarette and he saw him approaching him and saying

“Those things are going to kill you” Lestrade stood there, shocked, for a few seconds until he said

“Oh, you bastard!” Sherlock smiled and said

“Nice to see you Graham” Lestrade couldn’t believe that he still didn’t remember his name. 

“It’s Greg” he said. They both smiled and the Detective Inspector embraced Sherlock on a tight hug. The detective still didn’t feel comfortable with hugs but this time, he didn’t say anything; he just patted Greg’s back uncomfortably for a few seconds. 

Not much later, Sherlock decided to finally go back to Baker Street. When he arrived, he couldn’t help but staring at the door for a while; ‘221B’ he thought with a smile forming on his lips ‘home’.

Mrs. Hudson was doing the dishes when, suddenly, she heard the front door opening. The woman grabbed the pan she was washing and prepared to go out to see who was sneaking into the flat. Once she opened the door she couldn’t believe her eyes. After her initial shock, she started screaming waving her hands frantically in the air

“Sherlock, dear!” she ran to the detective and pulled him into a very tight hug

“Hi, Mrs. Hudson” said he taller man hugging her back. 

After explaining to Mrs. Hudson the details of how Molly helped him to fake his death, Sherlock went upstairs to where he used to live with John. Everything was exactly as he left it. 

The detective prepared himself a cup of tea and sat on his black armchair. Sherlock felt really sad at the sight of John’s empty chair in front of him; and for the first time I years he felt insecure ‘what if John doesn’t want to see me?’ thought Sherlock to himself. He was afraid of how the doctor would react to his return from the dead. He had not cared at all about how others would react to it, but when it came to John… it was different; he was afraid that he could not want to see him again. ‘Sentiment’ started thinking to himself the detective ‘dammit’.

John tossed and turned on his bed that night. After almost two years he was going to visit their old flat, where Sherlock and him used to live together. The doctor was not sure if going back there was a good idea but he really felt that it would make him feel a little closer to Sherlock again, and that was all it mattered.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning John woke up, showered and prepared himself a nice warm cup of tea.

Sherlock didn't sleep much because he knew that John was going to visit the flat and he was afraid of how John would react when he saw that Sherlock wasn't dead.

The detective finally got out of bed and found Mrs. Hudson leaving a tray with a cup of tea in the kitchen.

"Morning Sherlock!" she said with a warm smile

"Good morning Mrs. Hudson" replied the detective, who suddenly frowned and asked

"So it has always been you who brought tea every morning?"

"Of course! What were you expecting?" said the woman laughing. The detective just shrugged and said

"I thought it just sort of... happened". Mrs. Hudson laughed at the comment, hugged Sherlock and went back to her apartment.

Several hours later, John dressed up and got on his way to 221B.

Meanwhile Sherlock had been waiting the whole morning for the doctor, but he didn't show up. The detective started getting nervous. Did John regret the idea? Did he think he wasn't truly ready to visit 221B? He entered in a spiral of negative thoughts, with a sad smile on his face.

After a while, Sherlock laid on his bed, and involuntarily, he fell asleep.

John arrived to the flat late in the afternoon. He pulled the key out of his pocket and held it in his palm, staring at it. After a few seconds, he inserted the key into the lock of the door, hearing the familiar "click" of the door unlocking. He pushed it open and went inside. Partway down the hall, John stopped, staring at Mrs. Hudson's door and breathing out an anxious breath. In his head, he starts to hear Sherlock's violin playing. Then, he looked up the stairs as a snippet of an old conversation sounded in his mind "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done" "And you invaded Afghanistan!". John smiled sadly as the memory faded out from his mind.

Then, he saw Mrs. Hudson opening the door of her apartment. He went inside, where the woman gave him a cuppa and some biscuits. John noticed how mad she was and apologised for not keeping in touch with her. The woman understood how much he had been hurting and how hard it must have been for him, but still, she would have liked a phone call. Nevertheless, she forgave him. Sherlock had asked Mrs. Hudson not to tell John that he was alive yet, since he didn't know, and she obeyed. John stayed there for a little while, talking to the landlady, until he decided to finally go upstairs to see the flat he had been living in for five years.

Once he got in there, he started to remember everything: their first case together, their afternoons drinking tea silently, Sherlock shooting the wall or playing violin...

It was a bit dark because it was getting a little late. John sat on his armchair and his stomach twisted at the sight of Sherlock's empty chair in front of him.

The detective opened his eyes and looked at the time. 'I must have fallen asleep' he thought to himself. He was going to get out of his room when he started to hear someone crying 'John' he thought. How was he going to tell the doctor that he was alive?

John stood up and started pacing around the flat; nothing had changed since he left. Mrs. Hudson hadn't dared to clean the flat nor rent it. Then, all of the sudden John heard it, he heard his voice. It couldn't be right, it couldn't be him, no.

"Great" he said chuckling "I am definitely going mad!". He bursted into a nervous laughter, but stopped laughing when he heard it again, louder and clearer this time

"John." The doctor turned around to see him standing there in front of him. He was thinner than usual; his cheekbones were more marked than ever; the detective's dark curls were a little bit messy and longer that they used to be; he had a slightly pained expression on his face.

John's mouth hung open and his eyes started to burn, causing tears to flush his face. He couldn't believe his eyes. Once he steadied himself a bit he said

"What the-? Sherlock?". His mouth hung open. The detective nodded and took a few steps closer to where the doctor was standing, with a shy smile on his face and said

"Well, short version: not dead"


	6. Chapter 6

"Not dead. Not. Dead" John's anger was growing every time more; he was livid. The detective, however, remained silent so John kept on talking

"Two years, Sherlock! Two bloody years" he started saying

"It's okay, John, I'm-" but the detective's sentence got interrupted by John

"No! It's not okay! You were dead, Sherlock! I saw it happen. I went to your grave every goddamn day! Two bloody years!" he took a deep breath and kept on talking "I was moving on and now... Now you just come back into my life again? Don't you dare tell me it's okay!"

Sherlock's eyes started watering before he said

"I'm so sorry, John" he said with his voice breaking. He really was sorry and even though he hoped not, deep down he had known all the time that this was exactly how John would react. And Sherlock couldn't blame him.

"One word, Sherlock!" started saying John a little louder than he intended to "One word is all I would've needed to let me know that you are alive!" said the doctor, almost yelling. After a few seconds of silence, John managed to calm himself down and said

"You know... I wanted you not to be dead, Sherlock..." the detective just looked up at where John was standing and with a sad smile on his face he said

"Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for"

John was livid... Fury was running through his veins at that moment, but instead of punching Sherlock in the face or anything similar, he started to sob uncontrollably and asked

"Why Sherlock? Why did you have to do it?! Do you have any idea of what I've been through?"

Sherlock stared at the floor, he couldn't see John hurting like this and knowing that he was the reason for such pain; he just couldn't, he loved him too much to see him suffering like that because of him...

John, hated him at that moment. He hated him for leaving, for not telling him that he was alive, for not trusting him... But all his anger dissipated when Sherlock finally answered the question, crying, nearly begging for forgiveness

"I... I did it for you John... If I didn't jump, one of Moriarty's workers would have killed you..."

And at that exact moment, it hit John; he hadn't been the only one alone during those two dreadful years. Sherlock had faked his death to save his best friend's life. The detective explained to John how, during almost two years, he had been dismantling Moriarty's network; Sherlock had fought for almost two years while Jim's workers were still a threat. John didn't know any of that, of course he didn't. It wasn't until that exact moment that he understood the real purposes of the taller man. His best friend, John, would die if he didn't jump. And now that the doctor was aware of it, who could really blame Sherlock for making sure that John was okay?

Sherlock fell to his knees, sobbing without control. John remained silent. Sometimes silence was all they needed. The doctor approached the slender man, who was now on the floor, tears rolling down his cheeks. He was more in love with Sherlock than he remembered. The two men were now just a few inches apart from each other. Sherlock looked abnormally confused, he didn't understand what was going on, but he didn't complain. He just remained there, observing John's face and trying to memorize every single inch of it, when suddenly, the doctor leaned to kiss Sherlock. Their lips moved in unison; it was a soft and brief kiss, but long enough to say all of those things they had always wanted to say but never had, a kiss that said 'I love you'. Both men parted and remained there, just looking into each other's eyes.

Sherlock's cheeks rose in colour and his cupid bow lips twitched upwards. John smiled too, relieved that both, the detective and the doctor himself, had finally confessed their feelings, even if it was not with words, they both knew what that kiss meant.

After a few seconds, John pressed his lips on Sherlock's again. John pried his lips open and grazed Sherlock's lower lip with his tongue, asking for entrance, which was gladly guaranteed by the detective. They both explored the other's mouth until they broke the kiss, gasping for air.

John stared at Sherlock for a little while and, all of the sudden, he embraced Sherlock into a very tight hug, getting lost in his scent and warmth. He was back and he loved him. He didn't want that moment to end.

The detective hugged John back and buried his face in John's sandy hair. Sherlock had always believed that love, sentiment, was a chemical defect found in the losing side, a human error; he had always tried to divorce himself from such feelings, but now... now he was in the losing side and if that was how it felt, he didn't want to leave.

\------

THE END


End file.
